[Biz Markie]Yo! Your moms so poorShe went in Kentucky Fried Chicken and licked everybody else's fingers[Kid Capri]Yo Biz man you know that ain't my style[Biz Markie]Tchk, yo man what IS your style Capri?[Kid Capri]You know my style..Give me the mic, Lords of Funk is in full flightI keep you goin and flowin, all day and nightSo lets proceed with the sounds that you really needThe Kid is funky and my DJ got a lot of speedSilver D and Money Mark, is blowin upDon't think we won't be at a battle cause we're showin upAnd if you ever try to diss you're gonna get stompedI'm gonna make it plain and simple - there's no COMP!Yeah I said it, so whatcha gonna do about it?The Kid Capri is super dope, I just gotta shout itThe Lords of Funk will rock a party for a whileNow I can tell you that, but you know my styleYou know my style..Now my country 'tis of thee, let me tell you what it means to meI really love it when them crowds scream for meIt gets me hyped, makes me wanna rock rightFrom tonight, all the way until tomorrow nightYou know the flavor, so now, do me a favorPlease respond to the sounds Kid Capri gave yaI worked hard, to do what I do for peopleI'm not conceited, cause everybody is my equalI had a problem, with suckers, that tried to dissI overlooked 'em but they still wanted to persistI had to blow up, and blow up on 'em very largeCause chaos, and war, and sabotageThey made me mad, even though they didn't harm meThey stepped off when I went, and got my armyMoney Mark, Silver D, and Troopa LovePoppa Duke chillin with, the man aboveYou couldn't diss me, no matter, how much you paidYou made the record, but I'm the one that gets it playedRed Alert, he's blazin on my radioAnd I'm the man, that's blazin in your autoI go cameo, you think that youse a super hoe?You get sprayed, and played like a afroSo go ahead Hobbes, I make fingers popAnd you could never, get what the Kid Capri gotBefore I blow up, my man you better show upCause once I'm finished with you, you're gonna throw upI get respect, I teach 'em, and then correctYou're out of order out of style like a mock neckI'm gettin papers, while you suck Now or LatersI wear a silk Guess denim, and alligatorsSo go ahead chump, I'm not the one sonI grab the mic and wax that booty like a shotgunI'm not frontin, or fakin, or 'fessin to yaI'm Kid Capri, so let that be a lesson to ya!Punk, you know my styleDon't ever try to front kid, cause you know my styleOn the down low, you know my styleOh man there go my main man Spud Luva for the Troopa Love crewHe got it goin onThere go Shabar, she she got a little flavor right thereMoney Mark, Silver D, Lords of Funk, cool V in the houseKnahmsayin, pushin Kid CapriMy main man the brother (?) BIZZZZZZZZ MarkieMy man cool V in the houseThat's my man Grand Daddy I.U.Knahmsayin, Diamond Shell, Dapper Jay, they got it goin onMy main man the Chief Rockin StarchildHe in the house, he got it goin onMy man the world famous BUSSSSSSSY BeeHe kickin flavor, yknahmsayin?Everybody doin this for the doPuttin flavor where it's supposed to beThe Kid Capri is outta here like last yearAnd I'm gone, SEE YA!Cause you know my styleYou know my style.. uhh! c'mon.. woo!Cause you know my style.. {*echoes to fade*}